953 

&356S 
erst 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 
MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


OSTREA; 


OR, 


THE  LOVES  OF  THE   OYSTERS. 


A    LAY 


BY 

A.   FISHE   SHELLY,   ES 


NEW  YORK: 
T.      J.      CROW  EN,      G99      BROADWAY. 

1857. 


£53 


THE  following  capriccio  was  put  together 
for  the  writer's  diversion,  and  is  printed  for 
that  of  a  few  friends. 

Without  further  comment,  it  is  submitted 
to  any  others,  in  whose  hands  it  may  chance 
to  fall,  and  who  may  care  to  peruse  such  a 
trifle. 


"SEMEL   INSANIVIMUS   OMNES." 


M375316 


Introduction  ano 


"THE  Oylter  is  a  creature  that  perambulated!  the  bottom 
of  the  Tea,  and  abforbeth  nutriment  from  the  limofity  thereof" 
— faith  the  venerable  ALFREDUS  in  his  treatife  "Ds  PRODIGIIS;" 
and  farther — *'  It  hath  for  its  muniment  and  protection  two 
conches,  or  VALVUL^E,  and  therein  advantageth  the  TESTUDO  or 
SHELL-CRAB  which  is  mighty  vulnerable  between  the  joints  of 
his  belly."  It  hath  been  moft  frequently  the  fubjecl  of  in- 
quifition  and  comment  by  learned  writers,  both  neoterick  and 
antient ;  and  hath  been  the  comfort  and  folacement  of  the 
people  of  all  times,  and  ever  held  in  high  dignity  and  repute. 
This  creature  was  known  of  old  to  the  Philifbei,  and  to  the 
Sidonians,  and  to  all  the  people  that  did  Ikirt  the  MEDITER- 
RANEUM.  The  Colchians  alfo  did  fetch  them  from  the  Euxine, 
and  the  Samothracians  from  the  mores  of  the  ^Egean.  They 
were  matters  of  great  favor  and  relifh  (GRATI  SAPORIS),  it  is 
alfo  reported,  among  the  inhabitants  of  Cyprus,  and  becaufe 
the  Jews  did  hold  them,  as  well  as  all  Shell  fim,  as  an  abomina 
tion,  the  Cypriots  did  make  a  law,  that  if  any  Jew  mould  be 
call  on  their  coafts,  he  mould  be  ftraightways  knocked  in 
the  head;  which  fhoweth  that  they  did  rate  and  repute  this 
£fh  even  beyond  the  life  of  man.  But  efpecially  were  they 
held  in  efteem  among  the  Romans,  who  did  beftow  wondrous 


6 

pains  upon  the  procreation  and  fattening  thereof.  The  fhorcs 
of  the  Hellefpont  were  mainly  fruitful  therein.  "  ORA  HEL- 
LESPONTIA  CJETERIS  osTREosioR  oRis."  We  read  alfo  of  the 
"  OSTRIFERI  FAUCES  AsiDi."  But  above  all,  were  they  famed 
that  were  raifed  in  the  LACUS  LUCRINUS,  of  which  HORATIUS 
fpeaketh  as  "  LUCRINA  CONCHYLIA,"  and  which  he  did  ufc  to 
wafh  down  with  his  Lefbian  wine. 

"  CAPACIORES,  AFFER  HUC,  PUER,  SCYPHOS, 
ET  CHI  A  VINA,  AUT  LESBIA." 

To  which  lake  were  they  brought  and  fed  from  Brundufium, 
alfo  in  great  repute  therefor ;  as,  alfo,  from  Baias,  where  were 
planted  the  firft  Oyflcr-beds  by  one  Scrgius,  as  Pliny  tcllcth, 
"SERGIUS  GRATA,  PRIMUS,  OSTREARIA  IN  BAJANO  LOCAVIT." 
To  Italy,  alfo,  were  moft  excellent  ones  fetched  from  Rutupia, 
in  England,  in  the  time  of  Juvenal, 

"  RUTIPINOVE  EDITA  FUNDO 
OSTREA  " 

It  is  related  by  Gemiftus  Viaticus,  the  Cosmographcr,  of 
one  JEHORAX,  King  of  Mefopotamia,  that  he  was  wont  to 
divine  by  them,  and  that,  DUM  VENERIT  JUDICARE,  he  did  ufc 
to  confult  a  vaticinating  cock,  before  entering  upon  any  work 
of  great  import,  and,  alfo,  a  divining  box  of  living  oyfters ;  and 
that  he  would  regulate  himfelf  according  to  the  manner  that 
they  did  feverally  gape  unto  him. 

In  the  antient  time,  in  England,  were  they  alfo  in  great 
liking  and  ilore ;  whereof  it  is  faid  "  LES  GENTZ  DU  ROYAUMB 


SONT   USEZ    PLUS    QUE    NUL    PART   AILLEURES  J M    and,  alfo,  OH  thfi 

Southern-weftermoft  coaft  of  Scotland,  where  they  were 
planted  and  forwarded,  and  of  the  right  to  the  beds,  whereof 
great  difscnfions  and  differences  did  arife,  and  for  the  fettle- 
ment  whereof  it  is  ftated  in  the  REGIAM  MAJESTATEM,  that, 

"WHEN  YE  TWELVE  ROYALL  MEN  COMPEER  AND  PASS  UPON  YE 
ASSIZE,  THEY  SHALL  PROCEEDE  AND  TRYE  QHUILK  OF  YE  PARTYES, 
YE  PERSEWER,  OR  YE  DEFENDANT,  HATH  BEST  RIGHT  TO  YE  LONDS 
CLAMED." 

GRLDLLWGL,  the  learned  Welchman,  alfo  extolleth  them,  in 
his  "  LLW  RHTHWR  LRWLL,"  as,  alfo,  Salvianus,  in  his  work 
"Dfi  PISCIUM  NATURA  ET  PREPERATIONE ;"  altho',  he  faith,  that 
they  do,  if  much  partaken  of,  difpofe  to  melancholy,  and  to 
the  feeing,  in  one's  fleep,  of  phantoms  and  incubi. 

It  is  related  by  Pontoppidan,  that  Elfhelm,  one  of  the  Kings 
of  the  Weft-Saxons,  did  ordain  that  three  fcore  mould  be  fat 
tened  daily  for  his  wife,  who  did  mightily  affect  them;  and 
alfo  of  one  Og,  a  tyrant  of  the  Icthyophagi,  that  he  did  use 
to  regale,  himfelf  with  a  thoufand  fricafseed  daily,  for  his  break- 
faft.  Peter  of  Banbury  relateth  that  he  did  merrily  feaft,  at 
Chcfter,  upon  Chriftmas,  with  the  antient  fraternity  of  the 
wax- chandlers,  of  oyfters  and  Hippocras. 

ALEXANDER  AB  ALEXANDRO  relateth  of  a  certain  Duke  of 
Mufcovy,  that  he  did  ufc  to  keep  one  to  fport  withal,  as 
others  ufe  to  do  with  a  lap  dog,  and  that,  when  angered,  it 
would  quaver  with  its  chaps,  as  Jackanapes  are  wont  to  do 
when  in  choler. 


8 

The  tafle  thereof  is  mighty  palateable,  and  like  no  other 
living  thing.  It  is  mucous  in  its  humours,  "GLUTINOSUS 
CIBUS,"  and  pafseth  readily  down  the  gullet  or  meat-pipe,  and 
the  much  eating  thereof  doth  fatten  the  body  and  fortify  and 
comfort  the  fpirits.  It  is  defended,  externally,  by  two  lamel- 
lated  ihells  or  valves,  whereof  the  under  or  convex  one  ad- 
hereth  at  times  to  rocks  at  the  bottom  of  the  fea,  or  to  an 
other  individual,  and,  as  fome  maintain,  doth  not  move  there 
from,  but  is  nourifhed  and  comforted  thereat  by  the  influxion 
of  the  tide  that  bringeth  it  food  and  nutriment ;  while  others 
contend  that  it  hath  the  power  of  tardy  motion  or  gradefcence, 
and  creepeth,  or  proceedeth  by  little  and  little,  saltatorially. 

The  outer  (hells  are  hinged  or  incardinated  at  the  bafe,  and 
indurate  and  fcaly,  SQUAMOSO  CORPORE;  not  denticulated  like 
the  fcallop,  or  fpiral  as  the  periwinkle,  but  CICATRICOSUS,  full 
of  chops  and  gaihes,  the  which,  if  handled  heedleflly,  may  cut 
one,  for  Pliny  fays  "NECTUTUM  EST  QUOD  CICATRICOSUM." 

This  creature  hath  a  heart  and  vefsels  for  the  conduit  of  the 
blood ;  and  it  is  fympathetic  and  herdeth  with  its  kind ;  and,  as 
Gomefms  maintained!,  doth,  like  other  fifhes,  pine  away  for 
love,  and  wax  lean.  Even  so  love  tyranifeth,  yea,  even  in 
dumb  creatures !  And  what  saith  Virgil  ? 

"  ET  GENUS  ^QUOREUM,  PECUDES,  PICT^EQUE  VOLUCRES 
IN  FURIAS  IGNEM  QUE  RUUNT  ;    AMOR  OMNIBUS  IDEM." 

And  likewife  well,  Propertius : 

"  HlC    DEUS,  ET  TERRAS,  ET  MARIA  ALTA  DOMAT." 


9 

It  appeareth,  too,  that,  like  all  lovers,  it  hath  great  inclination 
and  concordance  with  the  Moon,  for  it  is  faid,  "  OSTREIS  ET 

CONCHYLLIS  OMNIBUS    CONTINGIT    UT    CUM    LuNA  PARITER  CRES- 

CANT,  PARITERQUE  DECREscANT."  For  the  wherefore  it  may 
be  concluded  a'  creature  of  great  fympathies  and  fenlibilities, 
and  well  worthy  of  note  and  confideration.  But  efpecially  is 
it  a  moil  fweet,  pleafant,  and  delectable  thing  to  them  that  do 
affect  good  cheer  and  the  joys  of  the  table,  for  it  may  be  pre 
pared  and  accommodated  in  many  curious  faihions  and  dis- 
pofitions,  to  fuit  the  tafte  of  each  that  would  partake  thereof; 
and  of  a  verity  doth  it  afford  a  moll  enjoyable  nutriment  and 
ravifhing  regalement ;  being  both  dainty,  juicy,  unctuous,  and 
otherwife  palateable  in  itfelf,  as  well  as  fanitary  and  ad  van- ' 
tageous  in  its  confequences  and  effects ;  and  in  footh,  altoge 
ther,  moft  refrefhing  and  comforting  to  the  body,  and  cheer 
ing  to  the  fpirits  ;  and  is  always,  efpecially  in  thefe  days,  held  in 
great  odour  and  repute  by  all  staunch  Epicureans  and  valiant 
good  trenchermen. 

To  Ye,  then,  my  moft  faftidious  anti-Pythagorean  Knights 
of  the  Refectory,  my  lively,  winfome  and  moft  anti-lenten 
Signor  Marrow-finders,  my  very  hey-dey  good  Don  Cofsacks 
of  the  Larder,  my  moft  cheery  and  ntmble-witted  Epulators, 
my  humourous,  trickfy,  airy,  and  waggiih  Bafhaws  of  the  Buf 
fet,  my  dainty  defiderating  Diih  familiars,  my  roiftering  Monks 
of  the  order  of  the  SANTO  RAGOUT,  my  grinding,  gulping,  gorg 
ing,  fluffing,  tucking,  bolting  Brobdignagians  of  the  Ordinary, 
my  moft  jolly  and  popinaceous  Gala-day  Junketers,  my 
1* 


10 

triumphant  Sir  Carollers  of  the  order  of  the  TABULAM,  my 
canny,  convivacious  Cormorants,  my  brifk,  merry-making 
Cock-a-hoops  of  the  Larder,  my  Flagellators  of  the  flelh-pots, 
my  palmy,  playfome  Platter  pepperers,  my  pliant,  cunning, 
dabbling,  good  neighbour  Pottagers,  my  WHAT  ? — YES-TO-BE, 
SURE-BY-ALL-MEANS  Cavilleros  of  the  order  of  St.  Babingoofe, 
my  moft  Hilarous  and  fprightly  Mafticators,  my  lively  Lads  of 
the  Locker,  my  nozzling,  gambolling  Skip-jacks,  my  jocund, 
fportive,  gleeful,  fpirited,  roguifh,  fall-to-and-fatten-bully  Bil 
bos  of  the  Skillet,  my  vivacious  and  double-gummed  Cocina- 
ceous  Utopians — To  Ye,  then,  my  buxom  pan  Enfiladers,  my 
lordly,  pecky,  approved  good  Paladins  of  the  belly,  my  munch 
ing,  paunching  Pottle-breakers,  my  fly  Sepoys  of  the  Pantry, 
my  keen,  nicking  nofe-pointers  of  St.  Boniface,  my  folicitant, 
jubilant  Fodder-finders,  my  HALLO  J-WHAT-INDEED-ARE-YOU- 
THERE  Camarados  of  the  Cociilum,  my  gobbling,  edacious,  Demo  - 
crititian  Partifans,  my  rub-a-dub  Guerillas  of  the  Commifsariat, 
my  moft  worihipful,  moft  unctuous  ET  REVERENDISSIMI  high 
Pontifices  of  the  temple  of  ST.  VENTER,  my  capering,  gypfical 
Pals  of  the  Pabulum,  my  exulting,  light-hearted  Chop-waggers, 
my  fat,  wheezing  Pigs  of  Epicurus,  my  crop-filling,  craw-ftuf- 
fing,  gizzard-puffing,  Phalacrocoratian  Parafites,  my  nimble- 
toothed  Hidalgos  of  the  EPIDEPNIS,  and  moft  worihipful  Grand 
Inquifitors  of  the  Stew-pan— -to  Ye,  and  all  of  Ye,  COLLETIVE  ET 
DISTRIBUTIVE,  do  I,  your  humble  fervant,  DEDICO  ET  CONCEDO 
that  which  followeth. 

;'•»•         TESTACEUS. 


11 


As  SOME  young  Pigeon  of  a  farm-yard  flock, 
No  more  content,  at  home,  to  fill  his  crop 
With  slugs  and  bugs,  which,  still,  the  daily  care 
Of  anxious  parent  would  provide  him  there  ; 
But,  grown  ambitious,  now  aspires  to  try 
His  wings,  as  others  do,  and  aims  to  fly 
For  friendly  tree-top,  or  some  neighboring  hill 
Fecundative  ;  whence,  stoutly,  challenge  shrill 
Proud  Chanticleer  sends  forth,  and  craning  far, 
Defies  each  answering  rooster  to  the  war 
Galliginous  ! — 

Th'  ambitious  Squab,  now  balancing  in  air 
His  small  anatomy,  with  painful  care 
Essays  his  flight,  and  fluttering  all  amain 
His  unused  wings,  now  up,  now  down  again, 
Or  falls  or  rises  ;  but  no  progress  makes, 
Unless  some  friendly  bird  compassion  takes ; 


12 

With  kindly  care,  affords  his  .stronger  wing 
To  aid  the  weakness  of  the  little  thing  ; 
Assists  his  powers  and  directs  his  flight, 
And  lands,  at  length,  him  safely  from  his  plight 
Aerial — 

So  thou,  0  Muse !  assist  the  feeble  flight 
Of  me,  ambitious,  as  I  plume  my  wing 
From  attic  window  to  the  heavenly  spring 
Castalian.     There,  may  I,  all  among 
Th'  inspiring  beauties  of  the  tuneful  throng, 
Drink  harmony  and  fire  pure  from  the  fount ; 
Till  stronger  grown,  I  then  aspire  to  mount 
Fierce  Pegasus,  whom  thou  Apollo  guide 
To  loftier  regions  of  the  sethereal  tide ; 
That  singing  still  I  rise,  and  rising  sing, 
CRESCENDO  ! 


13 


P   A   K    T 


THEME. 


NIAGARA  ! — who,  in  thunder  tone, 

Callest  my  spirit  yielding  to  thine  own  ; 

As  turned  to  thee,  each  feeble,  yearning  sense 

Grasps  at  thy  wonders,  where,  in  eloquence 

Primeval,  wonderful,  unchecked,  sublime! — 

Teaching  Eternity,  deriding  Time, 

O'er  the  vast  gulph  thy  dreadful  music  peals 

Great  Nature's  triumph,  and  to  man  reveals 

Omnipotence  ;  here  taught  by  thee  to  know 

His  littleness,  and  in  reverence  to  bow 

Before  Infinity ! 

Bridged,  docked,  and  tolled,  for  bath  and  mill  re 
stricted, 

Daguerred,  daubed,  rhymed,  by  every  lout  de 
picted  ; 


14 

Where  Cockney's  pic-nic,  where  fond  misses  sigh, 
And  Papa  grumbles  as  the  dollars  fly  ; 
Where  rustic  brides  philander  with  their  spouses, 
And  drink  their  ginger-beer  from  "  Vista  "  houses ; 
Where    dumpy    squaws    dispense    their    tawdry 

wares, 

And  brawling  hackmen  haggle  over  fares ; 
Where  puffing  steam,  thy  glory  to  abase, 
Sails  up  thy  jaws,  and  whistles  in  thy  face  ! 
I  sing  not  thee. 

And  why  not  thee?  as  here,  by  thee  inspired, 

By  nature  kindled,  and  by  muses  fired, 

I  wondering  gaze  ;  while,  leaning  on  my  breast, 

In  all  the  glow  of  instinct  love  confessed, 

My  O-re-sc-qua,  through  her  wild,  dark  eyes 

Dimmed  with  affection's  thoughts,  that  gushing 

rise 

Fresh  from  her  soul,  untaught,  into  mine  own 
Pours  them,  as  copious  as  thy  flood  is  thrown  : 
And  murmurs  broken  love  notes  with  the  breeze 
That  sings  aeolian  music  through  the  trees, 
Cooling  the  panting  currents  of  her  soul 
That,  thirsting,  leap,  beyond  her  pride's  control 
To  meet  mine  own  ! — 


15 

Too  vast  the  subject ! — and  too  great  the  song ! 
For  feeble  Muse,  that  ambles  still,  along 
Inferior  strata  of  poetic  skies, 
Eager  to  soar,  but  helpless  still  to  rise — 
And  pipes  on  tenuous  reed,  to  friendly  ear, 
Capricious  notes,  unheard  as  yet,  but  near : 
Nor  sounds  sonorous  bass,  nor  can  prolong 
The  measured  numbers  of  continuous  song : 
Nor  asks  a  poet's  name,  nor  seeks  the  bay ; 
Humble  the  theme,  and  humbler  still  her  lay — 
The  OYSTER  ! 

I  SING  THE  OYSTER  !  (Virgin  theme  !) 

King  of  Molluscules !  Ancient  of  the  stream  ! 

Thy  birth  was   Time's  —  soon    as   th'  affrighted 

world, 

A  quivering  mass,  in  space  immense  was  hurled — 
In  darkness  cradled — 'mid  chaos  nursed 
Tumultuous  ! — Ambiguous,  till  burst 
Thy  unctuous  beauty  on  a  world  where  none 
Could  know  thy  merit ;  there,  alone 
Thou  pined'st  forlorn,   'mid  mud  and  flood  and 

slime, 
Ere  man  came  on  the  stage,  far  in  the  time 

Cosmogenetical. 


16 

Nor  yet  alone — primordial  bivalve  ! 
Say,  in  thy  nonage,  didst  thou  not  have 
Some  shell-fish  she,  by  tender  tie  endeared, 
To  share  thy  mud,  and  pull  thy  downy  beard  ? — 
Her  love  to  cherish,  and  to  calm  her  fear 
When  MEGALOSAURUS  fierce  came  rather  near; 
Or  when  GALUMPUS,  monarch  of  the  main, 
Loud  bellowing,  shook  afar  the  watery  plain ! 
Or  COL-LOS-SOCH-E-LYS,  grim  giant  of  the  shore, 
Lashed  out  his  tail,  and  gave  his  morning  roar 
Thundiferous  ! 

How  long,  bemired,  inglorious,  didst  thou  sleep  ? 
Thy  charms  secreted  by  the  envious  deep, — 
Unknown,  untasted,  and  unsung ! — So  lies 
The  fairest  flower  'neath  Arab's  desert  skies  ; 
So  sleeps  the  gem  within  its  rocky  tomb  ; 
So  blinks  the  planet  in  its  distant  gloom, 
Till  some  rare  savant  brings  it  to  the  view — 
So,  half  the  world,  for  ages,  \&y  perdue, 
Till  great  COLOMBO  chanced  this  way  to  steer, 
And  waked  our  dozing  hemisphere, 
One  morning ! 


17 

To  fame  unknown,  but  no  less  worthy,  he, 
"Who,  of  all  men,  first  found  and  tasted  thee. 
How  great  his  faith !  his  courage  how  audacious ! 
To  swallow  thee,  cold,  slimy,  and  vivacious ! 
What  tremor  his !  as  when  thou  first  didst  glide 
Down  his  oesophagus,  and  didst  nimbly  hide 
Within  the  inner  man  ;  but  when,  by  repetition, 
He  gained,  at  length,  the  rapturous  fruition 
Of  all  thy  charms, — what  triumph  his  !  to  find 
That  he,  of  all,  had  given  to  mankind 
A  new  sensation ! 

Was't  Phut,  or  Peleg,  Shem,  or  great  Magog  ? 

Or  lively  Nimrod,  or  perhaps  his  dog  ? 

Or  did  the  royal  lips  of  great  Nebu- 

Chadnozzor  first  smack  over  you  ; 

Ere  yet,  a  ruminant,  this  stately  sinner 

Was  sent,  with  cows  and  goats,  to  pick  his  dinner  ? 

Or  broiled,  or  roasted,  did  thy  unctuous  savor 

Perfume  the  marble  halls  of  old  Belshazzar  ? 

Did  Pharaoh  gulp  thee,  'ere  the  sea  gulped  him  ? 

Or  Troglodyte,  or  Scandinavian  grim  ? 

Long,  long  ago ! 


18 

The  Romans  knew,  and  loved  thee !  So  assure  us 
Old  writers,  and  those  sons  of  Epicurus, 
With  mullets,  and  other  ancient  fishes, 
Would  serve  thee  up,  the  choicest  of  their  dishes, 
While  Baiae  and  Brundusium,  as  'tis  said, 
Rivaled — in  claiming  the  best  Oyster  bed! 
But  now,  nomadic,  through  all  regions  known, 
From  Polar  sea  to  fierce  Equator's  zone  ; 
Pagan  and  Christian,  Turcoman  and  Jew, 
All  stew,  broil,  bake,  and  swallow  you — 
You  Oyster!! 


19 


NIGHT  AND   LOYE. 


Far  in  the  West,  the  Lord  of  light 
Has  sunk  to  rest ;  and  now  the  Night 

Begins  her  silent  reign  : 
Each  drooping  flower  hangs  its  head, 
Each  warbler  seeks  his  leafy  bed, 

His  home,  each  tired  swain. 

The  waning  sky  mysterious  fades 
Far  into  gloom ;  and  deepening  shades, 

As  mourning  mantles,  fall 
O'er  land  and  sea,  and  nod  the  trees, 
Waving  in  Evening's  dying  breeze, 

Like  plumes  funereal. 

Now  wheels  the  bat  his  dusky  flight, 
While  little  cricket  chirps  to  Night 
His  melancholy  lay ; 


20 

And  Katy-did  to  answering  mate, 
His  love  and  sorrow  doth  relate, 
Until  the  opening  day. 

Save  these,  and  where  from  ancient  tree 
Yon  owl,  hooting  mournfully, 

Doth  unto  Night  complain, 
No  sound  is  heard,  no  life  is  seen  ; 
A  solemn  stillness  reigns  serene 

O'er  valley  and  o'er  plain. 

Still  soft  and  warm  with  Summer's  glow, 
The  breeze  of  Autumn,  murmuring  low, 

Fans  Nature  as  she  sleeps ; 
While  veil  of  night  is  round  her  thrown, 
And  Cynthia  from  high  Heaven  looks  down 

And  lonely  vigil  keeps. 

Her  rays  thrown  out  o'er  Ocean's  breast, 
Sport  with  his  strength,  and  light  the  crest 

Of  each  dark  rolling  sea ; 
Like  molten  silver,  gleaming  bright, 
They  dance  and  leap,  till  lost  to  sight 

Far  in  th'  immensity. 


21 

Swift  sailing  clouds,  like  passing  dreams, 
Some  dark,  some  tipped  with  silvery  beams. 

Move  on  in  long  array  ; 
Oft  they  obscure  yon  little  star, 
With  radiance  mild  that  shines  afar, 

Like  Hope  'mid  Life's  dismay. 

Sacred  to  mystery  and  to  love, 

Fair  Night !  thou  canst  each  bosom  move 

In  sweetest  thought ;  to  thee, 
In  grief,  each  charg-ed  heart 
Doth  love  its  burthen  to  impart, 

And  claim  thy  sympathy. 


The  tide  is  low  on  SHREWSBURY'S  shore, 
And  past  is  midnight's  silent  hour, 

And  calm  that  silvery  stream  : 
From  Highland's  brow  the  beacons  twin 
With  glowing  eye,  like  Cyclops  grim, 

Send  forth  their  warning  gleam. 

Send  forth  their  rays  far  into  gloom, 
To  light  the  weary  seaman  home  : 
So,  o'er  life's  troubled  sea, 


22 

Bright  beams  of  Truth  the  darkness  cheer, 
And  guide  the  erring  soul  to  steer 
To  heavenly  sanctuary. 

Wooing  the  breeze,  that  softly  sung 
Along  the  shore,  the  rocks  among, 

The  lovely  MYA  lay ; 
The  little  waves  that  danced  to  shore 
With  glittering  showers  laved  her  o'er, 

Or  cooled  her  with  their  spray. 

MYA  ! — fairest  of  shell-fish,  she, 
That  creep  the  shore,  or  swim  the  sea, 

Or  haunt  the  slimy  ooze  ; — 
Oyster  of  ancient  family, 
Of  tender  years,  scarce  summers  three 

Her  rounded  valves  disclose. 

Loveliest  of  Shrewsbury's  favored  race, 
Adorned  with  every  virgin  grace, 

And  fresh  as  earliest  dew ! 
With  softest  yellow  shines  her  skin, 
While  violet  blood,  her  veins  within, 

Reveals  a  purple  hue. 


23 

Polished  each  shell  on  outward  side, 
By  amorous  kissings  of  the  tide 

Long  loving  and  caressing ; 
While,  pure  as  orient  pearl  within, 
Gleaming,  as  dying  dolphins1  skin, 

Its  death  in  light  expressing. 

Around  her,  fine  as  silk- worm's  thread, 
And  soft  as  downy  plumage  shed, 

To  shield  its  tender  young, 
By  th'  Orcadian  bird,  and  green, 
As  is  the  polished  em'rald's  sheen, 

Profuse  her  tresses  hung. 

Patent  she  lay  upon  the  shore  ; 
Beauteous  the  scene,  and  fit  the  hour 

For  pleasure  and  for  love  ; 
Yet,  sad  at  heart ;  with  many  a  sigh, 
Do  grief  and  deep  despondency 

Her  saffron  bosom  move. 

Moistened  with  tears,  each  pearly  shell, 
That  formed  her  solitary  cell 
More  iridescent  glows ; 


24 

While,  to  the  silent,  listening  night, 
Sobbing  the  while,  she  doth  recite 
The  story  of  her  woes. 

"  Oh !  LOLIGO  ! — dost  thou  not  hear 

"  Thy  MYA'S  once  loved  voice  ?  'Twas  here 

"  Thou  bidd'st  me  to  await — 
"  I've  left  my  home  beneath  the  rock, 
"  And  kin  and  friends  are  all  forsook 

"  With  thee  to  share  my  fate. 

"Go,  gentle  breezes  of  the  night ! 
"  And  carry,  in  your  balmy  flight, 

"  To  him  my  tearful  sighs  ; 
"  Softly  murmuring  complain, 
"  Tell,  tell  him  of  his  Mya's  pain 

"  In  saddest  melodies." 

"  Send  him,  radiant  Queen  of  night ! 
"  A  silvery  ray  of  purest  light, 

"  To  guide  him  to  my  heart — 
"  Awake  !  ye  warblers  of  the  grove, 
"In  plaintive  strains  his  stay  reprove, 

"  And  all  my  woe  impart. 


25 

"  Oh  LOLIGO  !"  she  constant  cries, 

"  LOLIGO,"  echo  soft  replies, 

And  mocks  her  rising  woe  ; 
Panting  and  faint,  she  still  exclaims, 
And  echo,  still  replying,  names 

But  "LoLIGO-%0." 

The  shore  with  " LOLIGO"  resounds 
From  echoing  rock  to  rock  rebounds 

Fond  Love's  despairing  cry  ; 
While,  whispering  voices  of  the  night, 
From  trees  and  waves  and  air,  unite 

In  grieving  sympathy. 

How  ever  sinks  the  heart  oppressed, 
When  love,  first  felt  in  gentle  breast, 

Doubts  of  another's  love  ! 
In  keen  debate  of  hope  and  fears, 
In  smiles  self-mocking,  or  in  tears, 

Its  wild,  quick  throbbings  move. 

And  swift,  through  Memory's  storied  cell, 
Where  every  word,  and  look,  as  well,  - 
Have  long  deep  nurtured  lain — 


26 

With  lightning  flash,  Suspicion  flies, 
Illumines  each,  and  amplifies 

The  heart's  unceasing  pain. 

Sadly,  the  opening  bud  reveals 
Its  promise  blighted,  when  it  feels 

Rude  Winter's  chilling  power  : 
So  Love,  touched.by  Suspicion,  pines, 
And  drooping,  to  the  earth  inclines, 

And  fades  as  does  the  flower. 


But  see  ! — emerging  from  the  tide, 
Panting  with  haste  to  reach  her  side, 

Crawls  he  she  loves  so  well : 
Soon  to  his  Mya's  side  he  came, 
And,  glowing  with  an  equal  flame, 

Was  clasped  within  her  shell. 

Reproaching  gently  for  her  fears, 
Her,  smiling  softly  'mid  her  tears, 

He  soothes  with  kind  caress  ; 
" But  why  so  long?"  she  plaintive  cried, 
"  Why  leave  alone  thy  promised  bride 
"  In  this  deserted  place  ?" 


27 

Responsive  he — "  Pearl  of  my  soul ! 
"  Long  since  I  left  my  sea-weed  hole 

"  Hard  by  the  Western  shore. 
"  Scarcely  had  Phoebus  hid  his  head, 
"  Nor  yet  her  curtain  Night  had  spread 

"  The  face  of  nature  o'er ; 

"  Just  as  I  rose  above  the  tide, 
"  PHOLAS,  my  rival,  I  espied, 

"  And  closed  in  fiercest  fight — 
"  Long  was  the  struggle, — thrice  renewed  ; 
"  At  length  the  monster  fell  subdued, 

"  And  yielded  to  my  might." 

"  And  now,  I  hold  thee  to  my  heart 
"  Thou  dearest  one  !  no  more  to  part ; 

"  Ah !  love  me  thus  for  ever  ! 
"  Thou  silvery  goddess  !  hear  our  prayer, 
"  Long  grant  us,  free  from  ill  and  care, 

"  To  live  and  love  together." 

Bright  shone  fair  Dian,  as  they  told 
The  mysteries  of  their  loves,  and  rolled, 
In  music  murmuring 


28 

To  the  shore,  the  whispering  waves ; 
And  peeped  and  smiled  from  out  their  caves, 
The  clams,  in  joy  concurring. 

And  heart  did  there,  attuned  to  heart 
In  rapturous  unison,  impart 

Love's  thrilling  melody ; 
Half  wished,  half  spoke,  mysterious  but  di 
vined 

Before  expressed,  each  sense  to  thought  refined 
By  love's  sweet  Alchemy. 

Each  look  revealed,  each  trembling  sigh, 
Unbidden  the  soft  mystery 

Beyond  the  will's  control : 
Words  were  too  feeble  to  convey 
Each  rapturous  thought's  electric  play 

That  rushed  from  soul  to  soul. 

Hope  to  their  gaze  with  brightest  smile 
Illumes  the  future  ; — -joy  the  while 

The  present  feeds  with  bliss 
Newborn  ;  while,  to  themselves  appear 
Their  loves  all  world  and  heaven,— and  each  fear 

Is  scattered  by  a  kiss. 


29 

Pleasures  of  youth  and  love !  bright  dreams 
Of  life's  bright  hours !  though  vain,  yet  gleams, 

Refulgent,  through  long  years  of  care, 
Your  sunny  memory ; 
Nor,  would  I  from  my  heart  now  dry 

Those  founts  long  since  found  gushing 
there. 

There,  all  unchecked,  did  Fancy  stray, 
Flinging  her  hues,  in  varied  play, 

O'er  changing  wish  and  thought ; 
And  Conscience  smiled,  and  Memory  young 
No  tears  had  known,  or  thorns  among 

Life's  joyous  flowers  had  brought. 

Nor  \veeds  of  melancholy  care, 
Or  sad  regret,  were  growing  where 

Those  joyous  flowers  were  blooming  ; 
Nor  thoughts  of  evil  augury, 
As  clouds,  obscured  Hope's  azure  sky, 

The  mind  as  now  entombing. 

Danced  through  the  heart  the  warbled  notes 
Of  Pleasure's  song,  from  Siren  throats, 
As  down  the  silvery  tide, 


30 

Wafted  by  gay  Illusion's  breath, 
Heedless  of  sunken  rock  beneath, 
Life's  bark  did  gently  glide. 

Floating  from  Spring's  elysian  bowers, 
In  joyous  band,  the  sister  hours, 

Each  from  the  other  veiled  ; 
Around  me  danced,  in  gayest  measure, 
Bestowing  each  some  newer  pleasure, 

As  dreamingly  I  sailed. 

Now,  scattered  wide  along  the  way, 
Life's  winding  stream  as  I  survey, 

There  moves  a  shadowy  host, 
Recalling  as  by  magic  power 
But  sad  regrets  of  happier  hour, 

Of  love  or  friendship  lost. 

From  Memory's  tumultuous  cell, 
Aroused,  as  when  some  funeral  knell 

Starts  corpses  from  the  deep, 
Each  mocking  image  springs  to  view, 
Each  shade  a  shadow  to  pursue — 

Ah  !  Memory !  bid  them  sleep. 


31 

Emotions  past,  as  from  a  trance, 
Again  awake  and  flitting,  glance 

Along  the  ice-bound  heart ; 
Ye  Shadows  of  the  Past ! — in  vain 
Ye  seek  to  warm  to  life  again 

Or  joy  anew  impart. 

Buried  the  hopes  that  once  ye  gave 
Deep  in  the  Past,  Time's  yawning  grave, 

No  longer  ye  decoy  ; 
Wilted  and  gone  the  flowers,  too, 
In  lingering  tribute,  long  that  grew 

Above  each  buried  joy. 

One  single  plant  of  love,  alone 
Survives,  in  solitary  bloom, 

Ah  !  may  it  ever  last ! 
Kitty !  thy  love  is  ever  found, 
Creeping,  like  tender  vine,  around 

The  column  of  the  Past. 

(Though  'tis  the  fashion,  set  by  Byron, 
Past  hopes  and  pleasures  thus  to  sigh  on, 

And  draw  them  from  their  cloisters, 


32 

Its  rather  maudlin :  so,  to  gloom 
Keturn  ye  shades,  no  more  to  roam, 
And  revenons  to  our  OYSTERS.) 


Coyly  resisting,  her  he  led 

To  where,  by  hanging  rock  o'erspread, 

There  was  a  little  cell ; 
An  ancient  Scallop's  sanctuary, 
Where,  free  from  world  and  vanity, 

He  long  had  loved  to  dwell. 

Crooked  was  his  shell,  and  gray  his  beard 
With  hoary  age,  and  far  revered 

For  lore  and  sanctity  ; 
Cunning  he  was,  and  well  did  know 
The  moving  tides,  [and  when  a  blow 

Foretold  the  changing  sky. 

About  his  cell,  arranged  with  care, 
Were  shells  of  snails,  and  sea-weeds  rare* 

And  mosses  old  and  dry  : 
A  venerable  sponge,  his  bed, 
And  skeleton  of  eel,  at  head, 

Warned  of  mortality. 


33 

There  passed,  reflective  he,  the  days, 
Apart  from  noisy  herd,  and  maze 

Of  worldly  cares  and  strife  ; 
Sweet  Solitude,  with  love  sincere, 
There  did  he  woo,  his  mistress  dear 

And  pleasure  of  his  life. 

Wide  to  his  curious  gaze  displayed, 
The  works  of  nature  there  he  read, 

And  pondered  as  he  gazed  : 
Full  wisely  did  he  cogitate, 
And  secrets  rare  and  thoughts  of  weight 

Had  treasured  in  his  pate. 

Happy  the  wight !  who,  thus,  away 
From  vain  delights  and  world's  display, 

His  soul  may  purify  ; 
Simple  in  taste,  in  each  desire — 
Fair  Nature,  musing,  to  admire, 

In  lonely  sanctity. 

This  ancient  one,  his  pate  without 
His  hermit  cell,  was  peering  out 

Deep  pondering,  into  night ; 
2* 


34 

When,  came  the  lover's  to  implore, 
That  he  would  them,  for  evermore, 
In  wedlock  sweet,  unite. 

Though  long  a  foe  to  love's  alarms, 
Their  prayer  the  ancient  hermit  warms, 

Who  yields,  at  length,  consent. 
Their  pain  he  doth  commisserate, 
And  leads  the  way  with  air  sedate 

Within  his  tenement. 

Illumed  by  phosphorescent  shell 
And  fire-fly  lamp,  the  little  cell 

Glows  with  unusual  light. 
By  many  a  spell  and  holy  rite, 
The  loving  pair,  there  doth  unite 

This  holy  anchorite. 

By  altar  of  rosy  coral  placed, 
Tenderly  with  shells  inlaced, 

The  twain  became  but  one  : 
No  witnesses,  save  crickets  three, 
Who,  passing,  stop,  and  sing  with  glee 

Their  epithalamium. 


35 

And  now,  by  Hymen's  fetters  tied, 
LOLIGO  bears  his  juicy  bride 

Beneath  the  sparkling  flood  ; 
There,  wrapped  in  bliss,  the  happy  pair 
The  honey-moon  together  share, 

In  softest  JERSEY  mud ! 


SONGS  SUNG-  ON  THE  ABOVE  OCCASION. 


*  SONG  NO.  1. 

(AFTER  AN  APPROVED  MODERN  STYLE.) 
Far  shimmering  down  the  lone  valley, 
Against  the  gaunt  oaks  gnarled  and  hoary, 
With  shadows  so  lengthy,  so  dreary, 
So  lengthy,  so  dreary  the  shadows, 
Yes,  darkling  and  dreary  the  shadows ; 
Throws  glory  the  Sun,  Corruscator, 
His  life-ebbing  rays  thro'  the  gloaming  j 
See  !  now  how  effete  the  sky-cleaver, 


*  Which  was  delivered,  basking  in  the  moonlight,  on  the  shore, 
by  a  young  periwinkle,  of  a  sentimental  turn  of  mind. 


Falling  into  the  sea,  the  brined  water  ? 
Yes,  into  th'  unfathomed  Pelagic, 
Falls  into  the  sea,  the  entomber, 
The  cold,  cheerless  home  of  the  fishes-, 
Of  the  slippery  Eel,  the  Con-vul-vus 
Slipping  here,  slipping  there,  the  Co?i-vul-vu$ 
Now  here,  and  now  there,  the  Con-vul-vus9 
Now  there,  the  lithe,  clammy  Con-vul-vus  : 
And  with  him  the  Flounder,  so  slimy, 
The  Flounder,  so  slimy,  so  scaly, 
In  the  desolate  home  of  the  fishes, 
In  the  shivering  home  of  the  fishes, 
The  dank,  dreary  home  of  the  fishes, 

Of  the  fishes — 

• 

Yes,  the  fishes, 
•The  fishes  !-— 

See  !  there,  thro'  the  clouds  the  young  Luna, 
Yes,  the  Argentine  beams  of  young  Luna, 
Young  Luna  with  beams  all  of  silver, 
Thro'  the  gooseberry  bushes,  young  Luna, 
Yes,  the  gooseberries — Ah  !  the  gooseberries! 
While  there,  on  the  toad-stool — Smell-fungus — 
The  bull-frog — the  Co-ax-ker — chunJc-a 
Yes,  with  green,  glistening  eye-balls,  the  Bull-frog, 


And  white,  rounded  belly,  the  Bull-frog, 

See  his  little  white  belly,  the  Bull-frog  ! 

Now  he  watches  the  Skunk,  As-sa-fe-tah, 

The  snow-white,  the  stealthy  exhaler, 

Lest  he  creep  up  too  near  to  his  deary, 

To  his  love,  to  his  deary  paludal, 

To  his  green-streaked  and  tender  limbed  deary, 

In  the  little,  mossed,  moonlit  lagoon — 

Come  then,  the  Horned  Owl  with  hootings, 

And  drive  Sir  Mephitus  away — 

Away  then  !  Avaunt  from  my  charmer ! 

From  my  love  then,  away ! 

To-whoop  and  away  I 

And  away! 

SONG  NO.  2. 

(AFTER  AN  APPROVED  MODEL.) 
*  SICK,  sick,  sick !  Oh !  moan  of  the  long,  long  waves, 
Dirging  desolate  wails  for  a  scarified  heart, 
Beating,  beating  dull  tambours  of  woe 
Along  the  drear  wastes,  where  her  graceless  art, 
Where  the  wheedling  gloss  and  ostensible  flow 


*This  Spasmody  was  sung  by  the  disappointed  Photos,  on  seeing 
the  object  of  his  hopes  retire  with  a  rival. 


38 

Of  enameled  affection  has  cheated  the  glow 

Of  single-souled  manhood,  and  rapined  for  sport, 

For  whimsical  purpose,  and  babbling  delight — 

Ha  ! — have  we  clove-footed  Satanitifs  night? 

Are  valleys  of  Paradise  deep-lava'd  Hell ! — 

Has  the  great,  round  Earth  come  down  nearer 

Its  knell  ?— - 

That  lily-cheeked  minxes,  sly,  silver-tongued  spell 
And  the  soul-raking  practice  of  eyes  that  invite 
Can  palsy  life's  pulse  ! — -Is  it  well !  Is  it  well ! 
Come !  tell  me,  great  Heaven — Tst  well? 
Then  dance,  Devils,  dance,  in  your  impish  delight, 
Come,  dance  on  this  quivering,  blood-tenisoned 

heart — 

Ha!  ha!  for  the  driveller !  Ha!  ha  !  for  the  white- 
Bosomed  murdress,  the  waxed  hypocrite, 
The  waxen,  meek-visaged  and  masked-hearted  lie ! 
The  sleepy-eyed  Circe!  Come  now  take  me  to  die, 
Down  the  Uack-throated  cavern  O/*HELL  ! 

SICK,  sick,  sick !— Oh!  fetch  me  some  drug  for  the 

soul — 
How  rank  smells  the  rose  on  the  foul  brow  of 

Night, 
Where,  once,  all  was  muscadine — 


39 

How  frowzy  and  fetid  the  South  wind  blows 
On  the  feverish  throbbings,  where  passion  glows, 
Like  a  gibbering  ape,  in  his  mocking  spite, 
O'er  the  wreck  of  heart-hopings — and  as  an  ill- 
omened  bat, 

Jangling  his  shriek  through  the  poisoned  air, 
Through  the  church-yard  heart  now  chuckles  de 
spair, 
Despair  for  a  calcined  soul — Oh  !  my  darling,  love, 

my  pride ! 

My  own  heart's  heart !  not  thus  ! — not  thus  ! 
Was  it  good  ?  was  it  right  ? — Oh !  curse  me  wide 
The  varnished-tongued  Janus,  the  perjurous  cheat 
Spoiler  of  all  my  dreamed  joys — Will  she  come  ? 

my  sweet ! 

What  think  you,  Moon,  will  she  come  ? 
I  am  here  on  the  shore,  all  alone,  all  alone, 
I  have  crept  from  the  midnight  depths  of  despair, 
Come !  restore  me  with  kisses  of  light ! 
With  kisses,  with  kisses  of  light. 
With  kisses,  with  kisses  of  light 
BACK,  back,  back — all  ye  furies  that  tug  at  my 

heart 
She  will  save  me  with  kisses  of  light ! 


40 


REFLECTIONS  ON  THE  ABOVE  OCCASION. 


There's  beauty  in  the  Ocean  tide, 

As  roll,  in  surges,  to  the  shore, 

Its  crested  billows  ;  and  wide 

And  far,  majestic,  with  resounding  roar, 

The  mighty  waters  move — 

Or  when,  perchance,  they  sleep, 

Some  eve  ;  and  quiet  moonbeams 

Stealing  from  spangled  heavens,  creep 

And  smile  upon  dark  Ocean's  breast, 

Or  dance,  in  ripples,  o'er  his  hushed  strength. 


There's  beauty  in  the  tone  of  Music,  when 
It  lulls,  with  saddened  sympathy,  the  heart 
That  anguish  breaks ; — so  soothes 
The  strain  harmonious,  that  appears, 
Even  through  dim  sorrow's  tears, 
Hope  !  with  her  sunny  smiles  ! — 
Or  when,  with  happier  chord,  it  quickens 
The  deep  pulse  of  love,  and  the  charged  heart 


41 

Still  feels  the  loved  one's  presence, 

Though  afar  ;  and,  lulled  in  reverie, 

Communes  as  with  a  present  bliss. 

With  beauty  glows  fond  Nature's  face 

When  flushed  with  dying  radiance  that  the  Lord 

Of  her  life  sends  down,  as  far  in  West 

He  sinks,  and  clouds  with  varied  hue  and  crest 

Roll  in  involv-ed  splendor  ; 

As  smiles  with  brightness  yet  the  vale, 

And  placid  lake  and  stream  reflect 

The  roseate  Aurora  ;  and  the  snowy  cap 

Of  mountain  monarch,  peering  from  afar, 

Sends  back  to  clouds  their  glory. 

There's  beauty  in  the  morning's  opening  smile 
Dissolving  the  dim  mystery,  of  night, 
Awakening  earth  and  sky  to  life  and  light, 
While  all  her  warbling  heralds,  in  delight, 
Sprinkle  the  air  with  music. 
There's  beauty  in  the  pensiveness  of  eve, 
When  shadows  like  mournful  memories  steal 
O'er  the  repose  of  nature ;  and  subdue  the  soul 
To  reverie, — while  all  the  glittering  ministers  of 

Night 
Contrast  with  gloom  their  splendors. 


42 

But  to  the  mind  no  beauty  nature  brings, 

As  when,  in  mingled  fervency  of  loves 

Unbought,  spontaneous,  chaste,  pulsate 

Two  guileless  hearts  in  soft  communion ; 

And  mind  and  feature  to  each  other  lend  beauty 

expressive. 

Dependent,  trusting  with  a  firm  esteem 
That  makes  their  faith  inviolate, 
Each  owns  the  cherished  bondage,  as  Love, 
From  heart  expanding,  clarifies  each  soul 
From  earthly  dross  for  higher  holiness. 


MOKNING. 


While  these  in  love's  divine  emotions  lost 
The  Oysterman  wide  ranges  round  the  coast — 
Scarce  now  has  bright  Aurora  tipped  with  light 
The  glistening  hills,  and  chased  departing  night ; 
Ere  yet,  aloft,  her  golden  chariot  flies, 
Eesplendent  beaming  o'er  the  Eastern  skies  ; 
Sweeping  the  way  of  clouds,  like  duteous  daughter, 
For  Father  Sol  who  comes  up  lumbering  after- 
Scarce  has  the  earliest  rooster  cleared  his  throat, 
And  hailed  the  morning  with  vivacious  note, 
Where,  drowsy  still,  upon  some  neighboring  rail, 
He  opes  his  wings  and  shakes  his  dewy  tail — 
Scarce  has  the  lark  been  able  to  discern, 
For  morning  meal,  the  matutinal  worm, 
Ere  yet  abroad,  her  early  flight  she  tries 
And  soars  rejoicing  to  the  upper  skies  ; 
To  meet  the  morn,  with  gushing  melodies, 
And  sport  with  youngest  beams  from  Phoebus'  eyes. 
While  moping  watch  still  keeps  the  vigil  owl 
And  blinking,  winking,  sits  within  his  hole, 


44 

Wailing  the  dawn,  in  muttered,  dying  howl — 
Like  morbid  plaint  from  penitential  soul ; 
When,  OSTRECAPTOR  seeks  the  neighboring  shore 
Launches  his  bark,  and  grasps  the  ready  oar — 
Swiftly  compels  th'  obedient  skiff  to  glide, 
In  noiseless  current,  through  the  yielding  tide ; 
Low  bending,  dexterous,  pulls  the  pliant  blade, 
Now  to  advance  and  now  to  retrograde  ; 
In  measured  time,  with  quick  repeated  strokes, 
The  circling  eddies  of  the  stream  provokes  ; 
Now  here,  now  there,  directs  the  changing  prow, 
Now  quicker  moves,  now  cautiously  more  slow : 
Avoids  the  shallows,  through  entangling  reeds, 
With  vigorous  arm  the  nimble  vessel  speeds — 
Till  gained,  at  length,  th'   auspicious  place,  he 

throws 

The  trusty  anchor  from  th'  dancing  bows — 
Now,  to  St.  Peter,  of  fishermen  protector, 
Prays  for  good  luck,  and  quaffs  his  first  kumecter — 
As,  down  his  throat,  the  welcome  moisture  flows, 
Quick  leaps  the  blood,  and  with  new  vigor  glows ; 
A  genial  warmth  renews  the  sluggish  veins, 
And  all  the  frame  a  freshen'd  life  attains. 
Thus  fortified,  he  grasps  by  either  limb, 
The  oyster  rake,  and  sinks  it  in  the  stream  ; 


45 

Explores  the  river  bed,  with  practiced  skill, 
Tries  every  hole,  and  rakes  o'er  every  hill — 
Then  drinks  again,  then  pulls,  a  little  space ; 
Now  rakes  the  mud,  then  tries  another  place ; 
Now  blames  his  luck,  as  do  all  fishermen, 
Then  paddles,  drinks,  rakes,  pulls,  and  swears  again. 
At  length,  beneath,  the  hardened  shell  reveals 
The  destined  prey,  which  'gainst  the  rake  he  feels  ; 
Then,  with  a  jerk,  constricts  the  iron  teeth, 
And  draws  the  ravished  shell-fish  from  beneath. 


So  have  I  seen,  on  fair  Italia's-  shore, 
Basking  in  sun  by  old  Cathedral  door, 
Some  anxious  matron,  steadfast,  bending  o'er 
Her  nature's  jewels,  and  with  care  explore 
The  stock  capillary  on  each  tangled  pate, 
In  search  of  what  doth  nimbly  animate 
Its  mazes  ;  that  she  may  depopulate 
Of  creeping  tenants — groping,  now,  she  spies 
Some  rash  invader — marks  him  for  her  prize — 
With  dexterous  digits,  nips  th'  unwary  one, 
And  drags,  in  triumph,  from  his  hirsute  home. 


46 


NIGHT  IN  TOWN. 


Now  blinking  SOL  puts  on  his  night-cap 

And  snugly,  in  the  clouds,  doth  tight  wrap 

His  wearied  corpus,  as,  with  mournful  yawn, 

He  grieves,  at  thought  of  getting  up  at  dawn — 

When,  spent  with  toil,  the  drowsy  monarch  snores, 

Old  mother  Night  the  sable  curtain  draws, 

Illumes  the  winking  tapers  of  the  sky, 

And  bids  her  maiden,  pensive  Cynthia,  nigh, 

To  wait  till  morn,  and  silent  vigil  keep, 

Sola,  upon  her  snoring  lover's  sleep. 

Cynthia,  who  long  has  watched,  and  watching 

loved, 

Though,  e'en  herself  her  rising  love  reproved — 
Who,  for  her  god,  in  amorous  longing,  sighs, 
And  mourns,  when  fades  his  glory  from  the  skies  ; 
But,  when  refulgent,  shuns  his  warm  embrace, 
Nor  dares  the  awful  splendors  of  his  face. 
So  gentle  hearts  in  secrecy  maintain 
The  restless  tumult  of  love's  pleasing  pain, 


47 

Content  in  solitude  its  cares  to  feel, 
Know  naught  but  love,  yet  all  their  love  conceal. 
E'en,  to  themselves,  in  timorous  wonder,  coy 
They  feel,  but  own  not  th'jnstinctive  joy. 
Though  giving  all,  they  claim  no  fond  return, 
But  pine  in  silence,  and  unheeded  burn. 
Drinking    from    rended  wounds   with    which    it 

bleeds ; 

Still,  on  itself,  the  heart  insatiate  feeds, 
Till  the  poor  spirit  sinks  at  length  to  rest — 
Its  life  but  love,  its  love  by  love  unblest. 


Now  lies  in  darkness  muffled,  all  the  town, 
Save  where  some  gas-lamp  penetrates  the  gloom, 
Or  glancing  lights  from  dwelling,  or  from  inn, 
Reveal  hilarity  and  life  within  ; 
Or  mammoth  lantern,  with  its  painted  glare, 
Invites  the  rover  to  potation  there  ; 
Or  lighted  coach  along  the  pavement  flies, 
Like  some  big  bug,  with  phosphorescent  eyes  ; 
Or  down  an  area,  opened  bull's-eye's  rays 
Of  drowsy  watchman,  sends  a  sudden  blaze  ; 
Now  Vice  creeps  out,  and  crawls  her  slimy  rounds, 
And  brawling  Mirth  his  noisy  tocsin  sounds. 


48 

Now  skulking  miscreants  leave  their  murky  lairs, 
And  Crime,  abroad,  its  stealthy  purpose  dares — 
While  on  the  roofs,  Grimalkin  amorous  roves, 
And  cooks,  o'er  railings,  tell  their  greasy  loves. 

Waves  Morpheus  over  some  his  dewy  wand, 

And  wafts,  from  daily  care,  far  into  land 

Of  dreams  fantastic,  where  each  simmering  brain 

Selects  its  visions,  and  lives  o'er  again 

In  past  delights  ;  or  wild  imagination 

Builds  new  ideas,  in  queer  confederation — 

Less  favored  some,  the  hideous  Night-hag  strides, 

And  till  the  morn,  on  breast  or  belly  rides, 

Pummels  the  brain,  or  sucks  the  yielding  breath, 

Holding  her  struggling  victim  fast  beneath. 

Others  unite,  for  pleasure,  or  for  gain, 

For  cares  religious,  or  for  joys  profane; 

Each  varied  taste,  to  follow  its  desires, 

As  reason  or  folly,  whim  or  wine  inspires. 

Some  worship  at  Euterpe's  favored  shrine, 
Where  bassos  bellow,  and  where  tenors  whine  ; 
And  Prima  Donna,  through  three  acts  insane, 
At  length,  sings  back  her  brains  again  ; 


49 

While  simpering  Miss,  at  home,  so  orthodox, 
Here,  ogles  boldly  from  her  opera  box  ; 
To  come,  from  night  to  night,  she  sighs, 
And  waxes  maudlin  o'er  the  tenor's  eyes ; 
While  Pater,  lost  in  dreams  of  "Speculation," 
Damns  (to  himself)  the  whole  Italian  nation. 
Although  constrained,  by  Fashion's  tyrant  laws, 
To  take  a  box,  and  join  in  the  applause. 
Prim,  at  his  side,  sits  stately  dowager, 
Listening  to  love  from  pauper  foreigner, 
Who,  ceaseless  chattering,  seeks  to  win  her 
To  give  him — (moderate  man!) — a  card  to  dinner! 
Here,  buck  pretentious  'mid  the  glitter  glares, 
In  fashion's  gayest  garb,  and  apish  airs  ; 
Poses  himself,  as  does  the  Belvidcre, 
And  shoots  his  witching  arrows  far  and  near, 
That  harmless  fall  among  the  older  game, 
Though  little  youngling  feels  the  feathered  flame  ; 
With  many  an  ogle  then  he  doth  afflict  her, 
As  on  his  rabbit  glares  the  boa-constrictor, 
Around  her  prances,  prinks,  and  swaggers, 
While  she  goes  home  to  dream   of — "love   and 
daggers." 


50 

Vain  of  the  robes  by  wanton  Wealth  supplied, 
Here  pampered  FASHION,  in  ignoble  pride, 
False  in  her  face,  as  treacherous  at  heart, 
With  Nature  warring,  hugs  delusive  Art, 
No  genial  glow  her  narrow  bosom  warms, 
No  modest  virtues  lend  their  softening  charms, 
No  kindly  feeling  for  another's  good 
Dims  the  cold  eye,  or  stirs  the  sluggish  blood. 
In  selfishness  she  sits  enwrapped — alone — 
Careless  of  joy  or  sorrow  not  her  own. 
Her  fawning  minions  on  the  Goddess  wait, 
In  trifles  judges;  and  minutely  great — 
To  them  no  treasures  Contemplation  brings, 
They  cull  no  fruit  that  from  Experience  springs, 
From  Reason's  fount  no  sage  conclusions  draw, 
No  lofty  purpose  know, — save  self  no  law. 
Deaf  to  the  rustling  wings  of  fleeting  time, 
Eager  they  turn  where  jingles  Folly's  chime  ; 
And  Wisdom  mocked,  and  disregarded  Fame 
Fulfill  an  insect's  mission  'round  a  flame. 
Constant  in  change,  they  trifle  to  the  end, 
Live  but  to  please — and  die  without  a  friend. 
Their  life  hypocrisy — their  death  a  play  ! 
Where  falsehood  flatters,   a.nd  where   mummers 
pray— 


51 

There,  cold  Philosophy  bestows  a  sneer, 
Reason,  a  laugh !  Pity,  alone, — a  tear ! 

O'er  mimic  sorrows  some  their  tears  bestow, 
The  Stranger's  troubles,  or  Paulina's  woe  : 
Where  grief  bombastic  sets  the  galleries  winking, 
With  eyes,  ears,  mouth,  each  newest  horror  drink 
ing  ; 

And  Melodrame,  with  lungs  like  a  tornado, 
Dies  in  hyperbole,  and  fierce  bravado  : 
While  those  who,  elsewhere,  ne'er  a  tear  confess, 
Or  give  a  sous  to  aid  a  real  distress, 
Here  pay  to  blubber  o'er  a  play-wright's  cant, 
And  moan,  when  burly  Forrests  rant : 
To  ev'ry  virtuous  sympathy  give  vent, 
Applaud  the  good  and  laud  the  innocent, 
For  half  an  hour — but,  one  would  sure  amaze 
To  ask  them,  once  to  practice  what  they  praise. 
Thus  to  be  good,  is,  sure,  the  easiest  way, 
And  virtuous  be,  by  proxy — in  a  play  ; 
To  Heaven,  give  some  common  place  abstractions, 
But  to  the  Devil,  all  our  life's  transactions  ; 
Nod  at  a  virtue,  when  it  passes  by, 
If  seen,  perhaps,  in  Fashion's  company, 
But  should  the  rascal,  elsewhere,  be  obtrusive, 


62 


Then  kick  him  out,  with  epithets  abusive ; 
Nor  let  such  croaking  meddlers  interfere 
With  one's  brief  current  of  enjoyment  here. 


In  tippling,  some  the  fleeting  moments  pass, 

Diluting  sorrow  in  the  jovial  glass  : 

O'er  reeking  fumes,  they  love  to  wax  loquacious, 

And  then — sick,  amorous,  or  pugnacious. 

As  round  the  bowl,  in  drunken  fit,  they  gather, 

Great  Bacchus  knocks  their  muddled  pates  together, 

Of  brain  bereft ;  than  any  timber  thicker, 

So  thick,  that  nothing  can  get  in — but  liquor  ! 

Loud  grows  the  revel,  loud  the  ribald  song, 

And  strongest  heads  their  maudlin  wit  prolong 

Far  into  morn ; — while,  here  and  there,  in  rags, 

Outside,  pale-faced  Starvation,  shivering,  begs. 

To  lectures  many,  where,  for  a  "quarter" — 
Some  pscudo-savan  pours  out  wit — like  water ; 
Peers  o'er  his  specs,  like  goosey  o'er  a  fence, 
And  beats  the  desk,  in  grandest  eloquence  : 
With  metaphysics  heats  some  simple  theme, 
Then  gets  bewildered  in  his  self-raised  steam  ; 
Confounded  by  his  own  wild  exhalations, 
Gets  wilder  still  in  deeper  explorations — 


53 

On  waxen  wings  then  tries  a  lofty  pitch, 

But  tumbles,  headlong,  in  a  common  ditch ; 

There  floundering,  gropes  about  in  vain, 

Some  very  simple  niyst'ry  to  explain, 

Drags  common  sense  down  with  him  to  his  puddle, 

And  her,  as  well  as  self,  doth  strangely  muddle. 

He  to  be  great,  all,  surely,  must  agree, 

He's  wrote  a  book  !  and  taken  a  degree  ! — 

Up  gape  the  audience  at  the  wondrous  man, 

And  long  to  understand  him — if  they  can — 

And  if  they  can't — bemoan  their  want  of  sense, 

While  lauding  still  his  vast  intelligence. 

So  Folly  reigns,  when  blockheads  are  the  Judges ; 

And  Wisdom  seems — what  nothing  else  but  fudge  is. 

Thus  Dullness,  under  vizor  of  Minerva, 

Will  ever  find  some  wiseacres  to  serve  her. 

Others,  with  morbid  fantasies  imbued, 
Delight  to  potter  o'er  congenial  wood — 
Of  previous  stores  their  feeble  cranium's  dry, 
They  rap  o'er  tables,  for  a  fresh  supply — 
Too  lofty,  mundane  things  to  understand, 
They  grope  for  knowledge  in  a  spirit-land — 
There,  all  at  home  where  nothing  can  be  clear, 
Nonsense  exalt,  obscurity  revere. 


54 

Pale  Irreligion  aids,  with  practiced  wiles, 
While  Vice  disguised,  o'er  future  victims  smiles. 
Some  needy  hag  as  Pythoness  is  found 
To  lie,  knock,  swoon,  or  kick  the  table  round. 
For  her,  great  Milton  leaves  his  shining  peers, 
To  talk  with  dunces  of  harmonious  spheres — 
For  her,  staid  Bacon  skips  around  the  room, 
Upsets  the  chairs,  or  rides  upon  a  broom  ; 
Happing  some  mystic  nonsense,  by  the  hour, 
For  gaping  crowds,  as  gospel,  to  devour — 
While  Saints  and  Devils,  an  obliging  band, 
Preach,  pray,  or  cut  their  capers  at  command — 
Here,  scheming  Fraud  supplies  what  Folly  lacks  ; 
Who  start  as  Fanatics,  soon  end  as — Quacks  ! 

Elsewhere,   Miss   Grim    her   glowing    vengeance 

wreaks 

On  Man  th'  usurper,  and  her  protest  squeaks 
'G-ainst  Woman's  wrongs!  a  revolution  preaches — 
And  shakes,  in  air,  her  flag — a  pair  of  breeches ! 
Strong-minded  creatures,  grim  and  gaunt  as  spec 
tres, 

All  sit  around  chair-lady  and  projectors  : 
No  smile,  no  grace,  no  love  adorns  their  course  ; 
All  hard,  all  square,  all  stern,  all  strong,  all  "horse!" 


55 

Long-haired  and  eared  apostles  of  the  cause 
Support  the  fair,  and  bray  out  their  applause. 
In  vision,  now,  she  feels  herself  a  Sen'tor, 
On  rostrum  placed,  and  blows  like  any  Stentor. 
Still,  still  at  Man  her  mimic  thunder  hurls, 
Shakes  out  bad  logic  and — her  corkscrew  curls. 
Pray,  good  Miss  Grim,  what  is  the  matter  ? 
Why  all  this  gall,  why  all  this  ceaseless  clatter? 
Why  rail  at  Man,  why,  so  irate  palaver  ? 
The  reason's  plain — she  gets  no  man  to  have  her. 
O  Cytherea  ! — come  thou  to  our  aid, 
And  rid  us  of  this  ancient,  unsexed  maid  ; 
Nor  let  her,  longer,  for  a  fitting  mate, 
Be  clamoring,  in  such  abnormal  state — 
If  for  her  Jack,  each  Jill  may  justly  call, 
Send  now  her  Jack  and  turn  to  milk  her  gall — 
And,  Goddess !  when  her  luckless  Jackie's  found, 
Grant !  grant !  that  he  may  keep  her — gagged  and 
bound  \ 

Affairs  of  State,  here,  draw  a  motley  crew 
Of  sharper,  ruffian,  rogue  of  every  hue ; 
Pickpockets  sly,  and  pauper  politicians, 
Ready,  in  any  way,  to  better  their  conditions. 
The  hired  bully  here  seeks  game  to  bruise  on, 


56 

The  turncoat  there — who  calls  his  changes  fusion, 
Follows,  like  hound,  the  party  then  in  vogue, 
And  calls  his  former  comrade  cheat  and  rogue ; 
Takes  his  fat  place,  and  fattens  on  his  fall, 
Eating  his  fellows  like  a  cannibal. 
There,  reeling  "Pats,"  a  new  made  voting  host, 
Bestow  their  favors  on  who  pays  them  most. 
Swear  to  support  the  laws  and  constitution, 
From  which  their  ignorance  gives  absolution. 
In  motley  garb  they  follow  those  that  feed  'em, 
And  sell  their  votes  before  they've  learnt  to  read 

'em. 

Here  Candidates'  smirks,  and  drinks,  and  bribes,. 
And  to  all  principles  at  once  subscribes, 
Denounces  those  in  power  as  arrant  thieves, 
Calls  for  Reform,  and  for  his  country  grieves : 
While  he,  the  greatest  rascal  of  the  day, 
Wants  but  the  chance  to  be  still  worse  than  they. 
So  want  of  power,  oft  makes  those  wondrous  good 
Who'd  reign  like  very  Neros,  if  they  could  ; 
Who  virtues  claim,  when  placed  in  humble  sta 
tions, 
But  shake  them  off,  when  great,  like  poor  relations. 

There  roars  and  howls  Tiberius  Gracchus  Brown, 
Who's  on  his  legs  to  knock  "  Creation  "  down  ; 


57 

Too  groveling  he  to  rise  to  others'  level ; 

So  goes  for  sending  all  things — to  the  devil ! — 

Of  people's  rights  the  drunken  patriot  bawls, 

"  To  arms,  to  arms\" — the  down-trod  masses  calls  ; 

Croaks  himself  hoarse,  and  dry  as  any  frog, 

Then — sells  his  country — for  a  glass  of  grog  ! — 

So,  take  the  loftiest  patriot  of  the  .stump, 

Who  blows  the  biggest  and  the  loudest  trump, 

Of  patriotism  prates  ad  nauseam, 

And  seeks,  with  periods  and  big  words  to  palm 

Himself  on  masses,  as  Regenerator, 

Of  Right  and  Virtue  the  great  Vindicator, 

Who  claims  all  "  place,"  all  faction  to  despise, 

So  pure — would  seem  fit  saint  to  canonize : 

When  out  of  wind,  and  somewhat  out  at  pocket, 

Plump — from  his  skies  he  falls,  like  finished  rocket, 

No  longer  seeks,  by  humbug,  to  delude  us, 

But  sells  himself — as  cheap  as  any  Judas  ! 

Reserved  thy  triumphs  for  a  ripened  age, 
Time's  fav'rite  puppet  on  a  changing  stage, 
Where  all  are  duped,  and  all  alike  applaud 
Thy  genius,  HUMBUG  ! — and  thy  tricks  reward. 
Thy  dam  Hypocrisy,  by  Falsehood  sired, 
By  Folly  nurtured,  and  by  Fraud  inspired — 


58 

In  nature  constant,  changing  still  in  name 

In  purpose  various,  in  deceit  the  same, 

All  men  thy  victims,  yet  thy  firm  allies 

Thy  deeds  disclaim,  and  yet  thy  friendship  prize. 

Enduring  Goddess  of  a  fickle  age  ! 

The  adult  World's  ignoble  heritage  ! 

More  strong  than  Truth,  than  Virtue  more  pursued, 

Thy  pride  to  cheat,  thy  mission  to  delude — 

Yet,  as  by  sinner,  so  by  saint  implored, 

By  sage  enlisted,  and  by  fool  adored — 

Mankind  thy  slaves,  yet  all  the  world  thy  shrine, 

Thy  works  infernal,  but  thy  rites  divine. ! 

Thy  shield  of  brass  hides  Truth's  indignant  face, 

And  flashes  Error  on  a  blear-eyed  race, 

Thy  blatant  voice  drowns  Merit's  feeble  cry 

Upholding  falsehood  to  the  blushing  sky, 

With  shameless  bluster  and  with  bold  acclaim 

Announcing  wide  its  own  asserted  fame. 

Lo  !  at  thy  feet  where  Worth  and  Honor  lie 

Faith,  Virtue,  Love,  and  gentle  Purity  ; 

Each  honest  purpose,  every  generous  aim, 

Disheartened,  sinks  before  thy  potent  name. 

E'en  Nature,  taught  by  thee  to  play  a  part, 

Yields  herself  muzzled  to  thy  minion,  Art ; 

And  like  some  beast,  by  Mountebank  displayed 


59 

Performs  abnormal  tricks,  in  masquerade. 

Apostate  Justice,  doubly  blind  for  thee, 

Yields  ready  judgment  to  thy  perjury. 

By  thee,  the  guiltless  bleed,  the  culprit  lives, 

And  dextrous  knavery,  exulting,  thrives  : 

By  thee,  aspiring  Dullness  upward  flies, 

And  brazen  Vice  grasps  struggling  Virtue's  prize. 

Say,  must  we  ever  feel  thy  perjured  sway, 
Nor  hail  the  glories  of  a  nobler  day  ? 
Must  Man,  perfected,  lose  all  manhood's  pride, 
Live  but  to  learn,  yet  learn  but  to  misguide? 
Is  Wisdom's  end  but  Falsehood's  vile  success'? 
Must  Life's  great  lesson  be  but  faithlessness  ? 
Must  ever  Truth  to  juggling  Fiction  bow? 
And  modest  worth  to  meretricious  show  ? 
\Yhen  shall  Man's  nature  rise,  in  Nature's  might, 
And  spar  above  this  thick  obstructing  night ; 
Shake  off  th.e  shackles  that  constrict  the  heart, 
And  dare,  at  length,  to  play  true  Manhood's  part  ? 
Above  this  atmosphere  of  social  lies, 
Error's  thick  mists, 'and  clouds  of  fallacies, 
Fly  to  a  height,  where  Truth  refulgent  beams, 
Her  rays  unclouded  by  these  noxious  streams ; 
There,  champion  of  her  banner  wide  unfurled, 
Lead  a  new  life  in  a  regenerate  World  ? 


60 

But,  let  us  leave  these  scenes  of  brawling  life, 
With  envy,  hate,  and  fierce  contention  rife  ; 
Where  scum  of  bubbling  Civilization 
Thickens,  in  foul  coagulation : 
Whence  Honor  shrinks,  whence  manly  Virtues  flyy 
The  schools  of  Vice  and  low  Hypocrisy — 
Go  we,  my  Muse,  to  far  more  peaceful  scenes, 
Which  rather  with  thy  milder  taste  convenes, 
In  realms  domestic,  be  it  ours  to  dwell, 
Qf  humbler  things,  essay  we  now  to  telL 


P    A   K    T       III. 


CLOCINDA. 


Far  in  the  nether  realms  terrene, 

Clocinda  reigns,  the  Goddess  and  the  Queen. 

To  her  'tis  given  each  mystic  change  to  know, 

That  bodies  alimental  undergo — 

The  frame  to  nurture,  to  each  taste  to  cater, 

Nature's  most  kind  invigorator  ! 

The  spit  her  sceptre,  parsely  forms  her  crown, 

Kitchen  her  realm,  and  wooden  stool  her  throne — 

With  these  installed,  all  powerful  her  sway, 

When  she  commands,  all  tremble  and  obey. 

Obedient  Vulcan  owns  her  sovereign  power, 

And  Croton  summoned  sends  the  prosperous  shower. 

Portly  her  frame,  and  rubicund  her  face, 

Calm  in  repose,  but  awful  in  grimace  : 


62 

Though  kind  her  heart,  and  soft  as  freshest  dough, 
Determination  sits  upon  her  brow. 
From  her  resolve  appeals  no  captious  she, 
Firm  is  her  will,  and  final  her  decree. 
What  dread  dismay  her  gathering  brows  inspire, 
Whene'er,  displeased,  she  rages  round  the  fire  ! 
Her  voice  like  pounding  pestles  shakes  the  air 
And  fills  with  terror  all  that  linger  there. 
Swift,  for  his  hole,  each  mouse  affrighted  runs, 
E'en  crawling  roach  the  raging  priestess  shuns  ; 
Poor  Pompey  slinks  far  in  the  deepest  shade, 
And  every  cat  through  window,  flies  dismayed ! 
John  whistles  low,  yet  wisely  holds  his  tongue, 
While  trembling  Betty  wonders  what  goes  wrong. 
But  when,  again,  upon  her  rotund  cheeks, 
A  glowing  smile,  a  mind  contented  speaks, 
All  else  doth  smile,  all  else  a  pleasure  knows, 
With  cheerful  radiance  all  the  kitchen  glows — , 
With  greater  lustre  shines  each  burnished  tin, 
And  simmering  pots  their  liveliest  airs  begin ^ 

As  when  fierce  Boreas,  rujcs,  the  raging  skies, 
Summons  his,  winds,  and  bids  the  tempest  rise  ; 
Marshals,  from  far,  the  clouds  in  grim  array, 
And  spreads  their  gathering  volumes  for  the  fray; 


63 

Low,  muttered  roars  a  mask-ed  fury  tell, 
As  restless  with  wrathful  power,  they  swell, 
*Till,   lowering   far,   they  hang   the  Heavens    in 

gloom, 

And  bind  the  earth  within  a  vapory  tomb — 
The  howling  winds  a  fearful  music  make, 
Preluding  fiercely,  to  the  tempest's  rack  : 
While  fleecy  clouds,  as  heralds,  scour  the  air, 
And  bid  the  laggarts  to  the  coming  war. 
Hark !  from  the  North,  that  peal,  like  signal  gun 
Declares  th'  aerial  war  begun — 
One  sheet  of  flame  now  pales. the  lurid  sky, 
Then  bursts,  in  awful  roar,  great  Heaven's  artillery. 
Huge  clouds,  like  warring  vessels,  sail  the  skies, 
Hurling  their  bolts,  as  each  to  each  replies — 
Their  ceaseless  thunders  beat  the  throbbing  air, 
Each  peal  responsive  to  the  lightning's  glare, 
Which  ever  through  the  gloom,  like  forked  tongue 
Of  fiery  serpent,  darts  the  heavens  among. 
Contending  whirlwinds  from  all  quarters  rise, 
And  floods  now  burst  from  forth  the  teeming  skies, 
Their  furious  waters  all  the  earth  invade — 
All  trembling  Nature  prostrate  sinks,  dismayed — 
Awe-stricken  man  now  owns  his  feeble  powers, 
And  Him  that  rules  the  raging  storm  adores. 


64 

But  see !  emerging  from  the  weeping  sky, 

As  new-born  Venus,  rising  from  the  sea, 

The  lovely  daughter  of  the  storm  appear, 

Of  peace  and  hope  the  harbinger, — 

As  bright  her  glowing  beauties  rise, 

Hushed  is  the  fury  of  the  skies. 

Fierce  Boreas,  softened,  stills  his  wrath, 

While  gentle  Zephyrs  crowd  her  path. 

The  torrents  cease,  the  vapors  fly, 

All  heaven  owns  her  mild  supremacy. 

Gladly  the  earth  receives  the  gentle  maid — 

And  joyous  Nature  all  her  charms  displayed, 

Recovering  soon,  from  previous  fears, 

Smiles  still  more  sweetly  through  her  glist'ning 

tears. 

E'en  so,  Clocinda's  rising  smile  foretels 
A  grateful  calm,  and  every  fear  dispels. 

Lo !  where,  majestic,  by  the  crackling  flame, 

She  seems  a  priestess,  o'er  some  mystic  scheme 

Divinely  rapt,  while,  pierced  by  spit, 

Pinioned  and  plucked  before  th'  embrowning  heat 

The  victim  turns ;  revolving  slow, 

Him  she  annoints  with  juices  from  below, 

While  molten  fat  ascends  in  savory  clouds, 


66 

A  grateful  incense  to  the  household  gods. 

Her  plastic  genius  now  she  bends  anew 

To  make,  what  mortals  call,  the  "  OYSTER  STEW  " — 

True  talent  not  alone  doth  lie 

In  great  endeavor,  and  capacity 

To  do  the  loftiest  deeds ;  but  also  to  bestow 

A  higher  place  on  humbler  things,  and  throw 

O'er  that,  which  hitherto  obscure  hath  been, 

The  light  of  genius,  and  the  voice  of  fame. 

Clocinda's  genius  elevates  the  dish, 

And  makes  it  all  that  man  or  gods  might  wish. 

First,  in  the  cauldron  cleansed  with  anxious  care 

The  savory  celery  she  doth  prepare. 

Then,  over  this  inverts  the  crystal  stream, 

And  gives  the  cauldron  to  the  genial  flame. 

Then  adds  the  exuberant  udder's  freshest  yield 

Ta'en  from  the  kine,  that  roam,  at  large,  the  field, 

In  sunny  Orange,  nor  forgets  the  grease 

Yellow  and  sweet,  that  Goshen,  land  of  peace 

And  pasture,  justly  boasts, — then  adds,  but  sparsely, 

To  give  a  vernal  tase,  the  well-minced  parsley — 

Her  snow-white  tribute,  next,  doth  Ceres  give, 

Which,  first,  Clocinda  cares  to  pass  through  sieve ; 

Then  throws  it  in,  commixed  by  slow  degrees, 

Or  more  or  less,  each  varied  taste  to  please — 


66 

Her  vigorous  arm  now  nimbly  stirs  the  mess, 
Which  constant  skill  requires  and  wariness, 
Lest  lambent  flames  too  fiercely  lick  the  pot 
And  burn  by  rendering  prematurely  hot. 

DESTINY. 

Ruthless  destroyer  of  each  peaceful  race  ! 
Proud  man !  when  shall  thy  tyrant  power  cease 
To  meet  thy  will,  to  please  thy  changing  taste 
All  else  must  die,  all  nature  sink  oppressed ; 
Each  tie  parental,  each  congenial  yoke 
Of  nature's  humbler  tribes,  by  thee  is  broke, 
Each  lowly  joy,  each  instinct's  soft  desires 
Each  little  life  envied  by  thee  expires. 
As  wild  laments  his  agony  reveal, 
In  vain  contending  'gainst  the  ruthless  steel, 
For  thee,  torn  from  his  loving  mother's  side, 
The  tender  calf  pours  forth  the  purple  tide ; 
For  thee,  the  lambkin  yields  its  budding  life, 
And  hog,  complaining,  sinks  beneath  the  knife, 
Where,  vainly  struggling  in  a  fierce  despair, 
With  hideous  yells  he  fills  the  astonished  air ; 
Each  fond  companion  hears  th'  unusual  cries, 
And  to  his  grief,  with  answering  grief,  replies  j 


67 

Each  rock  repeats  the  unharmonious  woe, 
Through  echoing  woods  the  chorused  squealings 

grow, 

Startle  the  wond'ring  birds,  in  farthest  glades, 
And  drive  fair  Dryads  into  deeper  shades. 
For  thee,  the  finny  people  meet  their  doom, 
By  cruel  barb  dragged  from  their  watery  home- 
Ensnared  by  thee,  they  seize  the  fancied  prey, 
Then,  gasping,  wondering,  pant  their  life  away. 
For  thee,  each  cackling  mother  mourns  her  young, 
When  Biddy  seeks  a  victim  them  among. 
For  thee,   each  gobbler  mourns  his  slaughtered 

mate, 

And  patient  ox,  resistless,  meets  his  fate. 
Lo !  where,  in  massive  strength  revealed, 
Mild  eyed,  the  gentle  giant  of  the  field  ! 
Laborious  servant  of  the  exacting  soil, 
Kind  in  his  strength,  and  unreserved  in  toil, 
Calmly  contemplative,  complacent  chews 
Th*  redoubled  herb,  and  simple  thought  pursues ; 
Musing  on  clovered  meads,  or  sparkling  rills 
That  danced  through  verdure  down  his  native  hills. 
When  all  unchecked  he  ruled  his  little  dames 
Browsed  o'er  the  plains  and  frolicked  in  the  streams. 
When  doomed  for  thee,  full  on  his  hairy  brow 


68 

The  brawny  butcher  aims  the  barb'rous  blow. 
Full  on  the  front  the  ponderous  weight  descends, 
Through    hair,    skull,    brains,   resistless    passage 

rends — 

As  struck  by  fiery  missive  from  the  skies, 
Falls  the  crushed  brute,  and  bleeding,  quivering 

lies — 

In  one  long  sigh  expels  his  struggling  breath — 
Then  sinks  supine  his  giant  frame  in  death. 
For  thee,  the  pheasant,  as  the  aerial  blue 
He  cleaves  rejoicing,  when  at  length  in  view 
Of  piping  brood,  his  daily,  sweetest  care, 
Hastening  with  them  his  gathered  toils  to  share  ; 
Struck  to  the  heart,  receives  the  leaden  death, 
And  stiffening  lies  upon  the  ensanguined  heath. 

Thy  fiery  mandate  bathes  the  earth  in  blood, 
Thy  life  is  death — all  Nature's  tears  thy  food — 
Insatiate  tyrant !  will  not  these  suffice, 
Will  these  not  fill  the  bloody  sacrifice  ? 
Must  shell-fish  too,  that  mild,  innocuous  race, 
More  victims  yield  to  feed  thy  wild  caprice  ? 
More  victims  yield  to  that  absorbing  power, 
That  craves  all  things  organic  to  devour  ? 
Alas  !  for  thee,  must  mild  moluscules  bleed, 
Must  they  too  fall  thy  pampered  maw  to  feed  ? 


69 

Ready  the  burning  broth,  the  fated  hour  has  come  ! 
Trembling,  appalled,  each  dreads  the  coming  doom. 
In  memory,  each  the  pleasing  scene  surveys 
Where  passed  the  peaceful  hours  of  happier  days, 
The  silvery  stream,  the  far  extending  shore 
With  weed  and  clam-shells  all  besprinkled  o'er. 
The  verdant  slime,  the  mossy  rocks  overhead, 
The  yielding  mud  that  formed  their  native  bed  ; 
Scenes  of  their  early  childhood's  simple  bliss, 
Or  mutual  love's  maturer  happiness. 
Where  peace,  o'er  all  diffused  its  magic  spell, 
And  sweet  contentment  smiled  in  every  shell ; 
Where  Friendship's  genial  ray  each  bosom  warmed, 
Doubled  each  joy,  and  every  fear  disarmed. 
Where  oft  by  Fancy  led,  in  sportive  mood, 
They  scaled  the  rocks,  or  burrowed  in  the  mud. 
Roamed  o'er  the  pebbly  shore,  or  'mid  the  reeds 
Chased  their  kind  loves  and  sought  the  cooling 

shades. 
There,   sheltered   close    from    Phoebus'    noontide 

beam, 

Wooed  the  soft  breeze  that  crept  along  the  stream, 
Told  their  fond  longings  to  the  listening  fair, 
And  claimed  for  love  its  sweetest  triumphs  there  ; 
Where,  all  at  ease,  beneath  the  genial  day, 


70 

In  glowing  charms  each  panting  beauty  lay ; 
Harmonious  with  surrounding  Nature's  fires 
And  dreaming  thoughts  that  dreamy  Love  inspires. 
While  some  from  valves,  in  wild,  mischievous  play, 
O'er  sleeping  comrades  jerk  the  cooling  spray, 
Or  slily  crack  the  sea-weed's  slimy  fruit 
Where  ardent  lover  presses  earnest  suit, 
Or  nip  the  bee,  or  gaudy  summer  fly 
As  skimming  the  stream  they  flit  exulting  by. 
Or  watch,  perchance,  swift  darting  from  the  skies 
The  screaming  hawk  secure  his  scaly  prize, 
Or  mark  the  nimble  trout,  in  sportive  mood, 
Leap  from  the  stream  and  frolic  in  the  flood, 
Basking  his  glittering  sides  in  noontide  rays, 
Or  devious  paddling,  in  a  sluggish  ease, 
While  various  songsters  from  each  pensile  limb 
That  hung  umbrageous  o'er  the  sun-lit  stream. 
The  languid  air  with  warbled  richness  cloy, 
Telling  in  music  all  their  amorous  joy. 
As  thus,  the  pleasures  of  their  simple  homes 
They  various  see — a  deeper  anguish  comes 
O'er  each  fond  bosom,  and  in  hopeless  tears 
Fond  memory  lingering  murmurs,  while  appears 
Despair  with  sable  banner,  through  the  gloom, 
And  waves  them  on,  reluctant,  to  their  doom. 


71 

The  stern  CLOCINDA  marks  them  for  her  own, 
Each  by  her  hand  remorseless  now,  is  thrown 
Within  the  bubbling  cauldron  ;  hissing  fires 
Their  requiem  sing,  and  bubbling  each  expires. 
One  last  embrace,  one  long,  entrancing  kiss, 
One  lingering  dream  of  love  and  happiness 
The  lovers  know,  then  tearfully  await 
The  dreadful  summons  of  impending  fate. 
Oh  !  great  divinity  of  wedded  love ! 
Let  grief  like  theirs  thy  kind  compassion  move. 
And  thou,  bright  Venus  !  to  thy  votaries  come, 
And  rescue  them  from  this  too  early  doom  ; 
Arm  all  thy  Cupids,  bid  the  potent  band 
Arrest  for  once  the  stern  Clocinda's  hand — 
Still  let  them  live,  and  all  thy  pleasures  prove 
Too  short,  as  yet,  their  happy  dream  of  love  ! 
How  sad,  at  length  when  sweet  fruition  crowns 
Hope's  golden  dream,  and  fortune  adverse  frowns 
No  more,  but  wreath-ed  now  in  smiles 
With  bliss  before  unknown  the  heart  beguiles  : 
When,  soul  to  soul,  by  sweet  emotions  tied, 
And  every  wish  and  every  thought  allied  ; 
Dependent  each,  and  every  look  revealing 
The  depth  of  joy,  the  ecstacy  of  feeling — 
When  all  the  future  seems  a  present  bliss, 


72 

And  life  but  a  dream  of  happiness, 
The  world  an  Eden,  where  each  joy  to  prove, 
With  time,  a  slave  to  minister  to  love. 
'Tis  sad  that  thea  an  adverse  fate  should  sever 
Those  golden  joys  they  dreamt  were  joys  for  ever. 
In  vain  their  love,  their  fondest  hopes  in  vain, 
Vanished  their  dream — no  more  to  know  again, 
Those  sweet  desires,  those  springs  of  soft  emotion, 
That  priceless  gift  a  heart's  unbought  devotion  ; 
All  that  of  earth  to  brighten  life  is  given, 
Firm  as  the  faith,  and  pure  as  joys  of  Heaven. 
Fate's  summons  comes  ;  together  clasped  they  die — 
Together  STEWED  !  within  the  pot  they  lie  ! — 
Mourn  ye  fond  lovers !  their  untimely  fate, 
Weep,  weep,  ye  Cupids  who  on  lovers  wait — 
Yet — weep  them  not,  nor  mourn  their  early  doom 
In  JULIA'S  throat!  they  find  an  envied  toinb! 


FINIS. 


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